Them Pussycats Are Quick
by unonimous
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Mrs. Lovett figured that out? Well, here's my take on it. it's still in-progress, and the rating might go up for violence against cats.
1. prologue

AN: btw I'm not going to put 'she said' to anything because she is talking to herself.

Mrs. Lovett was having a normal day in her pie shop, well if you count normal as having no customers at all. It had been like this for a while now. People occasionally come in, notice the lack of other people, carefully order one pie (as to see if they were as bad as the people around told them), take one bite, and leave without paying. "They're probably telling all of there friends right now," scoffed Mrs. Lovett to herself. She had been doing that a lot lately, talking to herself. "Probably because of the lack of people to talk to," she said. She sighed inwardly, you did it again, Nellie, you need to find more customers to talk to, or otherwise you'll end up in the loony bin like Mrs. Barker.

She resisted rolling her eyes to nothing in particular. The woman had tried to poison herself, and who was Mrs. Lovett to deny her the right to control her own life. "Just face it, Nellie, you wanted her dead as well," now that was going into dangerous territory. Lucy Barker was the only thing keeping her from Benny. "You love him as well as her and maybe more." Mr. Barker, that was the subject that kept her through the day, she loved him, a lot. "But he's not coming back, Nellie, they sentenced him for life"

She growled in frustration, she was talking to herself again. "Now Nellie you just need to figure out how to get more customers in the shop." Well for one thing she could just make better pies. "How do I make my pies better?"

She thought about it while she cleaned up the dust on some of the tables. "It's not like I'm Mrs. Moony and can get customers whenever I want." She then thought of a brilliant idea. "She gets her meat from pussycats and customers love them, why shouldn't do that?" The one thing that Mrs. Lovett didn't know was how much trouble one little pussycat could be.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Lovett set out on a walk around Fleet Street, after all how could she get a cat without knowing where one is. It was a sunny day out, for once; after all how cheery could it get in Victorian London? She found a cat right out of Mr. Southerns' Butcher Shop.

She had been there many times before to get meat for her shop, but that was when the Barkers were still above her shop. Times wasn't so hard then. She would get her money for meat from the rent they were required to give her each month. But, that was the past, and now she needed to get money if she ever wanted normal meat in her pies again. "I swear, if I ever get enough money to afford it I am only going to put beef or chicken in my pies, nothing different or out of the ordinary." "So, that's why your pies taste so bad, you not putting in real meat!" exclaimed a voice from behind her. Apparently, Mr. Southerns was right behind her. Oh! I have to stop doing that! "No, sir I put real meat in my pies, it's just not the kind that goes into food."

"So, what kind of meat do you put in it?"

"Chicken."

"But that goes into food. Doesn't it?"

"It does. I just don't put the edible part in."

"I will rephrase myself, what kind of chicken do you put in?"

"Muscle." With the questioning look she got she guessed he wasn't very happy about that little piece of information. She then remembered that he was the one person who came in more than once to try her pies in hopes that they had gotten better. They hadn't.

"The only reason I put that in is because I can't afford anything else, and besides, it's good for your teeth," she explained.

"How is it good for your teeth?"

"It strengthens them."

He gave her a funny like that mimicked a dog begging for food, she was about to comment on his facial expression but thought better of it. After all, why add to the list of things that guaranteed to get her into Bedlam? She decided to give him an explanation, but he started talking first.

"Why are you in my back alley?"

"I was enjoying the view."

"You were enjoying the view of an open trench behind my shop, which is right were I put my garbage?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"What?"

"It's just a phrase I heard from some guy who was selling books about people who are ugly and how they think of the world." After receiving yet another questioning look Mrs. Lovett decided to leave. He's probably going to get the beadle to put me in Bedlam now, then I could keep Lucy company. She continued walking down the street debating whether or not she should just make a run back to the pie shop when she remembered the cat. "Well cats come out at night so I should go back then." And with that she went home to prepare for catching the cat.


	3. Chapter 3

She crept quietly through the streets, trying to find her way to the butcher shop. She had a light black dress on and was keeping near the dark corners. After arriving in the alley were the cat lived she hid and waited for the cat to make an appearance.

About an hour later she saw the cat come out of its hiding place. Now just wait for it to come closer, she thought (thankfully inside her head this time). It started creeping closer to where she hid. "It's black," she said, scarcely above a whisper. Now, Mrs. Lovett wasn't a superstitious person, but it was a little creepy to be out at night, in an alleyway, with a black cat. She might as well be under a latter right after she stepped on and broke a mirror. Another thought popped into her head, it was Hallows Eve; the night evil spirits came to earth. Just perfect. She was pulled from her train of thought when she felt the cat rubbing its head against her leg. Well, that was easy. She grabbed the cat, it didn't pull away or anything, it just nudged her with its chin. "To bad you're going to die, you're a cute little bugger." And with that she walked back to her shop and went strait into the bake house.

"First things first." She grabbed a knife, but then thought better of it. If she was going to kill it why not do it humanly? She set the cat on the table and wrapped her hands around its tiny little neck. Her sole purpose was to snap the cat's neck quickly, and bake it into her pies. That cat had a lot of things resting on its shoulders; it had a pie shop to save, there was nothing that was going to divert her from doing that task.

The cat though, apparently had other plans. With one smooth leap it bounded out of her hands and began to make its way up the stairs and onto the street. "Come back here pussy! You need to go in my pies! Ah! Not up there!" She bounded up the steps in hope of catching the cat before it got to the street. She had no such luck.

The cat looked not that old and was in a condition to be called fit. Mrs. Lovett was a thirty year old woman who was wearing a very heavy dress and a corset. None of which helped her breathing or catching the cat. "Ok, you win. Pussy-one, me- zero."


	4. Chapter 4

Mrs. Lovett was now back in her pie shop getting her battle plans together. After all, how did she expect to catch a pussy when she didn't have any way of catching it? It had already proven to be smarter than it looked, so she didn't want to underestimate it again. "And now all I need is a way to grab it. A final touch in my plans of remaking my pie shop to trump Mrs. Mooney's."

Her plan went like this (in much similarity to how she got the cat that first time): she waits until the cat come out and discover a basis to when it comes out each night, discover its pattern of behavior, find a weakness in its pattern, then grab it.

"Now I need to get back to that darn cat, after all, it's only four in the bloody morning, and I need to get that cat before sunrise." ………….."Damnit! I need to stop talking to meself! I probably just jinxed it!"

That is how Mrs. Lovett found herself every night ,following a cat. "I feel like a bloody stalker." She was currently positioned in the alleyway behind a trash pile. The cat was currently licking itself in the moonlight. "And it's now going to- Oh!" Mrs. Lovett now just figured that the cat was a boy, and was doing a no so g-rated thing to another cat. "He found himself a lady friend." She herself had not been able to get a boyfriend herself. "For a bloody cat to get a partner before me is not right!" She was quicker becoming angry with the little bugger, and very much looking forward to skinning it and chopping it up. But, right now, she had other problems to deal with. As she was shaking her head in frustration of being single she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

"Who's out there?" yelled the voice of Beadle Bamford. "Oh, just bloody brilliant timing, he's going to find me stalking a cat, and drag me off to Bedlam." In her position, it would take a miracle to get away unnoticed. She was hiding in the dark alley to be away from the _cat's_ line of vision not a _person's_. Her back was facing the street and in front of her were some boxes, but besides the cover of darkness, she was completely in the open. "Mrs. Lovett is that you?" Bugger.


	5. Chapter 5

Mrs. Lovett slowly came out of the shadows that hid her. The Beadle looked at her with a strange look on his face.

"What where you doing hiding in that alley? There's no one in there but cats."

" I was umm…. looking for my spatula." Spatula? Is that the best thing to say, a bloody spatula? Now you're really screwed, Nellie, he's gonna think you're a loony.

"Mrs. Lovett, how in God's green earth did you manage to lose a spatula, and it end up five blocks away from your shop?"

"I lost it while I was taking a walk."

"Pray tell, why you would be walking around with a _spatula_?"

That one got her. Why would she be walking around with one? It's not like you walk through London and see a bunch of people walking around holding spatulas. Let's see, how can I explain that I was walking around holding a spatula? Oh! I know!

"I was loaning it to a friend who was in need of a spatula."

" A friend that didn't own a spatula?"

Again she was caught, everyone owned one it's not like you could cook much of anything without using something to spread ingredients. The spatula made cooking so much easier to the household wife, or cook depending on how much money you have. They were really popular; it would be near impossible to find someone that doesn't have one.

"She just moved here from Scotland, and she's new here."

"Very well, for a moment I thought you lost your mind. Okay, well, you better get back to your shop, it's really late."

"I will, thank you." Thank you, God! He believed me! I guess I should go back it is really late, like he pointed out, and I think I have enough information about that pussycat to set up a trap.

She walked back to her shop with a renewed hope. She will be able to catch the cat by tomorrow if her plan went smoothly!


End file.
